A second thought
by RunningFoxes
Summary: Strutting around with Jason(Mr Womaniser),Reiner(the party animal) and Bertholdt Fubar(military slang for ****ed up beyond reason), Sabrina immediately becomes Bridgeport's most infamous bachelorette. She's rejected any romantic offers, saying that she hasn't met a man yet that'll make her go like putty. Dear me, what a girl! Perhaps a few men from New Greenwich will soften her up.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin, et cetra, or anything from the movie, 'In Time/I'm Mortal/Now'. Thank you.

"Dude!" I yell angrily, and knock again, my knuckles pink with a tingling sensation. "Jason! Mr Womani-"

The door abruptly swings open, and there's Jason, in his glorious Pokémon pyjamas and bedraggled raven hair.

"Whap," He intelligently replies, and scans my face with sleepy glass green eyes.

"Where's the chocolate fudge that you promised me?" I snap. Yesterday, Jason complained that he was dying of boredom, so I invited him to one of Reiner's parties to meet more girls in exchange for Jason's wicked chocolate fudge. I'm not even exaggerating. Sasha, the best cook I've seen, beat the guts out of me when I admitted Jason's fudge was better.

"Fridge."

"Thanks," I mutter, waltz into his kitchen, open his fridge, and scan for the familiar ice cream container with my name on it.

"Password is Rias Gremory with a capital R, G, and no space," He yawns, and heads to his bathroom. Ah, what a smart boy. I decide to let the fudge stay in the fridge for a moment, and kick back on the sofa, typing the password on my phone for Jason's wifi. I unzip my jacket, tap on Firemeow, and resume my search for any suitable jobs.

_Flushhhhhhhhhh._

Ugh.

"So, what job are you going to look for? You'd better make it quick though, you don't have much time left," Jason comes back, sighs, and kicks his feet up onto his mahogany table - a gift from one of his eccentric ex-girlfriends.

"Put your feet down," I say, and take a quick glimpse of my left forearm.

**00 : 00 : 5 : 23 : 02 : 00**

**00 : 00 : 5 : 23 : 01 : 59**

"Oi, focus," He interrupts, snapping me back into reality from the greenish glow of the digits. I merely nod, and scroll through the webpage on my smartphone. Which job should I go for? Sure, I've got a MPharm degree, but I never thought my 'career', cough cough, would end so swiftly. But it was because of those snobby New Greenwich idiots. Initially we were one of the few pharmacies scattered around in Bridgeport until a powerful businessman bribed our boss and crushed us with disgusting tactics, making way for more stores. Jason blames me. He says that I was not acting like my age at the welcoming party.

Ha. As if.

"Oh, Gordon Bennett," I give up, and grab my jacket from the couch. "I'm going back to my apartment. Sasha and Connie are going to rage at me for not spending the night at home."

"Well, Reiner's flat isn't the best place to spend the night in anyway. Bye. And find a boyfriend, for Christ's sake. Or at least ask me. I'm quite unbelievably sexy, you know."

"Yeah," I mutter, and slam the door shut. No, Jason. You'll never escape from the friendzone room I set you in. No matter how much Sasha denies her obvious crush towards you.

Oh, wait.

I knock on the door again. Jason opens it ever so slowly and gives me a pedophile's glare.

"Can I have my fudge?"

* * *

"Sabrina! Where'd yah go?!" Sasha shrieks as she throws the door right open, and hugs me tightly, not even giving me a second to dodge. Connie stares at me disbelievingly, and finally blurts, "You idiot, we thought you got...er..."

I raise an eyebrow in mock annoyance, and gently push Sasha back. "I went to Reiner's parties, along with Jason. And since I didn't have enough change to take the bus, I had to stay. Sorry about that."

"How did Jason get back home then?!" She shakily replies.

"He's a guy," I laugh, and shrug. Sasha mutters something along the lines of 'sexist', but takes notice of my ice cream container in my hands.

"Ah, um, I can explain!" I quickly reassure.

She snorts with discontent, and says, "Connie ate all your barbecue chips yesterday, so I'll let you."

D-Did I hear correctly? My barbecue chips...? Connie?

I glare at him over Sasha's shoulder.

"Wh-what? It wasn't me! It, it was Sasha!" He stammers, and points at her. "Po-potato girl, right?"

Sasha sticks her tongue out at Connie, and walks to the lounge, turning the T.V off. I sigh as I enter the apartment, and tell my flat mates I'm going to my bedroom. After feeding the neon tetras with bloodworms, I change into proper PJs, and crawl into my single sized bed, musing about Jason's words.

_"...find a boyfriend, for Christ's sake."_

Boyfriends, boyfriends, boyfriends. Honestly, so many people bug me about my single status so much, I think I'm going to turn into a lesbian! It's not like I'm a homosexual or something, it's just that I haven't found anyone who interests me. My foster mom, Sasha, and the majority of my other friends think that I'm being too fussy, while my foster dad seems to understand my situation.

His words of advice: Find someone who knocks your socks off, serious, and enjoys a glass or two. If the guy only fits the third category, give him my number and I'll invite him somewhere special.

Oh well, I'm going off track anyway... So, that's why I go to Reiner's parties. He puts on the big brother act, teases about my single status, and tries to invite every guy in Bridgeport in his parties, while Bertholdt supervises my forced mingling with Reiner a few metres away. Argh, I hate being a metre and fifty seven centimetres tall! No-one takes me seriously enough for anything! Armin and Connie are the only guys who're around my height! I pout and stare through the gap of my curtains. The sky's so blue today... I wonder if anyone's eye colour is as crisp and clear as the sky I see right now.

* * *

_The typical nightmare. I'm on the few minutes of my life, running away from the dreaded Minute Men. But it's too late. They stole nearly all of my time._

**_00 : 00 : 00 : 00 : 04 : 13_**

_And strangely, there's a person ahead of me. Hmm? A new addition to an old dream. How exciting. _

_The familiar surge of adrenaline courses through me as my partner and I run through the dark damp alleyway, trying to outrun Fortis, leader of the Minute Men. He's tall, blonde, handsome looks, and always has a way of keeping his velvet fedora on his head. Some rumours insist that he doesn't have a fedora, but I've never seen him before. And he seems more classier with that fedora. Not li-_

_"I have to give you your inheritance now!" My partner puffs, with a voice that's unmistakably male. Then I realise he doesn't have a face at all. It's just a black circle. _

_"Wh-what...inheritance?" I hiss, and we both take the left side of an empty, silent traffic intersection. I'm utterly confused now. Is my brain playing tricks on me?_

_"Shit, not enough cover," He growls, and drags me along with him. _

_"Kill her! But get him!" _

_That's unorthodox. I glance at my left forearm._

**_00 : 00 : 00 : 00 : 03 : 28_**

_At least the nightmare's nearly going to be over. I wince as my partner suddenly propels me forward, and embraces me firmly, his back facing the approaching gang. The hug also felt oddly familiar, but disconcerting all the same. His warmth spreads to my body as I look at his arm._

**_56732 : 07 : 18 : 16 : 45 : 04 _**

_No way! My eyes widen with disbelief. Since when did I hang around with rich guys? Fifty seven hundred years to spend? That's insane! _

_His time starts to fall rapidly, and I notice that he's giving me time._

_But how much?_

_"Got you!" Fortis' voice shouts triumphantly._

_"Fuck!" My partner snarls, and loosens his grip. "Dammit, Sabrina, go!" _

_"I won't," I suddenly blurt, and shut my mouth instantly, nearly biting my tongue. Argh, why would I say that to an imaginary figure?_

_Unless he isn't imaginary, a small voice amusedly answers. _

_Stop bullshitting, I retort._

**_23856 : 07 : 18 : 13 : 02 : 18_**

_"Don't be a brat," He scolds, and steps back._

_But he never got to face Fortis fair and square. _

_Life._

**BANG**

_Gone_.

_The glowing green digits on my partner's left arm slowly coagulates into a stony grey. And before I know it, he's dead. And then, my mouth instinctively opens to scream his name, but before I utter a sound..._

I wake up, only to be greeted by the golden eyes of Connie, staring attentively at me. Before he even gets a chance to humour me, I slap him, and storm off to the bathroom.

A/N: Hi! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!_ Hands a cookie. _Reviews and criticism are always wanted, as long as they're helpful. Again, thanks for reading!

Update: O_o Just realised I got the time thing wrong. Sorry!


	2. Chapter 2

"You should go back to university again, " Mikasa suggests, stirring her cappuccino whilst curling a lock of black hair. "Try for Bachelor of Art in Creative Writing. And then get a part-time job."

"What, no," I groan, and stare out of the foggy window. "I stink at writing. And I love my freedom, as much as yo- Sasha loves food."

Ah crap, gotta be careful, nearly said that she loved Eren. She gives me a little frown, her onyx eyes glinting with slight impatience."You're the only person I know who aced Literature at high school without tutoring. And I remember that you would write such moving stories and ask us to read and cri-"

"I'm not writing for money," I cut off and sigh. "Trust me, I never finished any of my stories. I doubt anything would change."

"Well, considering about your single status, I sent Sasha something. Then I won't have to be such a loner any more once you see it," She cheerfully says to herself, and takes a sip from her coffee. I flinch, not saying a word. This is bad. If Mikasa thought that someone would suit me, I'd probably go to university too. She was the legendary matchmaker and genius in our class, which Christa always idolized after Ymir.

"If you're serious, then I'm going to stay in Jean's house, forever," I state, and stare at her. "Sasha would kill me with fluffy crap if I came back home today! Why did you have to send that to her?! Are you insane!?"

"No," Mikasa tells me. "I'm just helping you."

I groan with exasperation, and tell Mikasa I'm going. The sooner I leave to see that girl, the better. I grudgingly exit the café, stand in front of the elevator doors and punch the down button. Bliss, I thought when the elevator doors slide wide open, revealing no-one in the elevator. I step inside, press the G button, and start spamming the close doors button like there's no tomorrow.

* * *

"Sasha!" Connie's muffled voice yells, and he knocks on the door. "Let me in!"

"No!" She teasingly replies and punches me on the arm. "Girl talk time! Go talk to your friends instead!"

I flop on her bed, sighing. "What do you want to show me anyway?"

Sasha slips her silver Inventlet, and connects it to her charger. The Invetlet is short for Inventory Bracelet, and as the name suggests, you can bring any forgotten items from your house to nearly wherever you are.

"Mikasa sent me a whole bunch of things," Sasha says in a hushed voice whilst tapping the Deliver button. "OMG! SHE FOUND YOU SOMEONE. FINALLY!"

"Shut up," I hiss, and reach for the charger. She pouts, and stares at me menacingly. I glare at her back, and let go.

"How's Jason?" She chirps.

I roll my eyes with disbelief as Connie knocks on the door again. "Special delivery."

Gods, that sounds so wrong, I grin as he opens the door, throws the package on Sasha's bed with a cling, and slams the door shut. Sasha ravenously tears the package open, revealing a few metal cylinders. She frowns with uncertainty, and starts shaking one of them.

"How much do you have to pay for that Inventlet?" I ask.

"Around three years for the bracelet, and fourteen minutes each month," She replies, and sighs with defeat. "How do you get these things to work?"

I inspect one of the cylinders closely, and recognise the familiar cluster of holes at the side along with a small hemisphere attached to the top. "Hey, it's a recorder from university!"

I press the play button, shake the cylinder and point the projector to a bare wall.

"Staff room," Mikasa's voice murmurs, and I hear a distinctive '_plop_' noise. Argh, why did she disable the camera?!

"Ackerman, what the fuck are you doing here?" A deep voice snaps. I shudder with recognition, but I couldn't place my finger where I heard that voice before.

"I was looking for the USB you promised me," Her breathless voice says. "And I helped Ms Ral make your coffee this time, without sugar and cream, right?"

"Damn right."

"Don't swear in front of a student!" A woman's voice shakily comments. "Honestly, I-"

"Petra, calm down!" Another voice interrupts.

"Here's your USB, Ackerman. However, next time, don't come in here," The voice who swore skeptically says. "But thanks for helping Petra not to fuck up the coffee this time."

"Did she put the recorder in the coffee?!" Sasha exclaims and sniffs the cylinder. "Nope. Can't smell anything. I wonder which guy Mikasa's introducing you to?"

Obviously the one who swears a lot, I muse inwardly. In my opinion, people who cuss have a tendency to speak the truth more often. I tuck a lock of my reddish-purple hair behind my ear, and listen to the recording more attentively. But why would she introduce me to a lecturer? Mikasa rarely matches girls with guys who are way out of their age range...

"Well, how was your class?"

An awkward laugh.

"Shit. Honestly, those shitty brats, except for Ackerman, don't even bother to pay attention since we're near the exams."

"Oh, hey, is this your student's recorder? It's in the sink..." Petra's voice trails off.

"Is it on?"

"Ye-"

Beep beep, the recorder wails, signalling the end of the recording. She put an auto-timer? Typical Mikasa. I pull the wrapping paper, and flip it around, checking for anything else except for recordings and videos. Something more... substantial.

"A photograph...?" I mutter to myself as Sasha grabs another recorder and frantically presses random buttons. I delicately pull the sticky tape off, and scan the writing on the back of the photograph.

**_I could barely take any photos for you, sorry. Honestly, he's like a psychic or something. Sorry if it's a bit blurry. -Mikasa_**

I flip the photo earnestly, and what I see is someone who could easily pass for Jason's older brother. The lecturer's hair is the same shade, his eyes are the same colour of the sky I saw today before my dream, the same crisp, cool blue, a defined jawline, and he had a scowl on his face as if someone smashed his Xbox Three. He wore a plain, white cravat, a buttoned up shirt, a light brown leather jacket, formal trousers, and black loafers. He's far more slender than Jason however, so I guess-

"No," Sasha loudly yells into my ear, scaring the bejeezers outta me. "Jason's brother?! Does she want to make my dear Jason the third wheel?!"

"Shut up," I laugh excitedly. Mikasa works wonders. "Hey, what did she write at the bottom?"

**_Levi Rivalle, my blunt, but fair history lecturer._**

* * *

I punch Mikasa's number on the communication panel fixed to our refrigerator, and impatiently toil through the unclean dishes from dinner.

_Bring bring!_

_Bring bri-_

"Do you like him?" Mikasa's voice sails over the running water, and into my ears, as clear as crystal. I slam the tap shut, dry my hands carelessly, and strut up to the panel, turning on the video option. Her face pops up on the screen, charcoal eyes glimmering with anticipation.

"I might be a hard customer," I frown. "But..."

Her expression changes from 'Come on...' to 'Again?"

"I haven't finished," I grin. "Freakishly, I'm infatuated to bits already and I have his photograph burned into my mind. How come I never seen him before?"

"He said that he came this year from a different time zone, probably from an area in England," She assumes, but gives me a smile. "But I'm glad that you're considering not to be single anymore. After all, everyone's worried that you'll find-"

"Yeah, I know," I echo her smile. "You don't have to be my second mom, y'know."

Mikasa exaggerates a sigh. "Well, I have to go, I've got a few essays to write. See you later!"

"Bye!" I wave, and walk back to the sink. No wonder why she wants me to go back to university again, maybe we'll swap classes again so I can see Levi, like the good old days in school.

Levi. Levi Rivalle.

Dammit, what's wrong with me?

A/N: Huzzah! Chapter two is released! I hope you enjoy it! So far it's the most motivating story I've written so far. :P Heh, hands some OJ for reading the second chapter. Chapter Three will come in a week or so, since the exams are looming ever closer, so stay tuned, and check out my CO-OWNER's song! Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

I restlessly sort the items in my passenger bag, double checking that I've got everything, especially my textbooks. Thanks to Bertholdt, my nerdy best buddy, he managed to hack the university system easily and enter my details in the roll and such. My phone gently vibrates in my pocket, signalling a call.

"Mikasa! Where are you? I'm lost," I ask desperately, sliding down to the floor, and looking side to side frantically. "I'm at the fourth floor, I think."

"Take the fire exit stairs to the sixth," She suggests. "The elevators are bugged, so once they see you, they'll send someone to help you. And Sasha apparently refuses to give you time, so I'll lend you some."

"Thanks," I sigh, and rush to the fire exit door. Gah, I nearly forgot that I only have three days left, thanks to the ridiculous bus fare today. I trudge upstairs, and up to level six. After walking past through several rooms, I finally catch sight of Mikasa.

"Dude," I sigh. "Why did you have to make me come here at eight?!"

"So then people won't start fussing at a new student," She calmly answers my question, and I nearly fall over. Ugh, waking up at six in the morning is not worth the trouble! Mikasa continues,"After all, you want a class switch to see my history lecturer, right? Here's some notes, so you don't have to end up stammering."

She fishes through her bag, and takes out possibly twenty sheets of notes written on refill.

"Oh my god, I hate university," I whine, and grudgingly accept the notes. "What's this? World War One? You're studying that? That's ancient?!"

She shrugs nonchalantly, and grabs my left wrist. "How much time do you want? I've got forty years to spare."

Rich girl... "How about a fortnight? Christa told me her boss might offer me a job."

Mikasa laughs softly, and sends some of her time into me. "You're going to be a waitress? That'd work, you're cute and short."

I freeze, replaying her insult to my one point five seven tall stature in my mind. Cute and **short**. And **short**. **Short**.

"Fuck you, Mikasa, don't you dare say that again."

"Sure," She lies, and punches the down button for the elevator. "You sound like Mr Rivalle, _darling_. And his lecture starts at eight twenty-five, sharp. Don't be late, or you'll have to run up to the top floor, down to the reception, and back to class."

Oh fuck, I groan inwardly and blush furiously as she disappears into the elevator. A sudden thought strikes me. Where is he, actually? I peep through the stretch of glass next to the door, and see a figure in the classroom. I flinch, paralysed. Is that...him? The figure effortlessly sifts through his paper, and stacks them on his desk, finished. I instantly look forward, and try to brush my hair away from the glass. Gods, what am I going to do, this obviously is his office, and wh-

"What do you want?" A sharp and familiar voice snaps. I stiffen, and decide to look down at the floor.

"I-I, um, I'm in your le-lecture at eight twenty-five..." My voice pathetically trails off.

"Stop speaking to the ground," He sighs, and I look up. Holy crap, he's barely taller than me! Mr Rivaille raises an eyebrow, throwing off a cynical aura.

"I'm a new student, and I'm attending your lecture at eight twenty-five," I repeat, my voice firmer than before.

"Huh," He says, and grabs his black passenger bag off the doorknob, stuffing his papers inside . "Stick with me then, if you're actually in my class, brat."

We briskly walk to the elevator while he mutters something like 'location's on the fucking timetable', and enter inside. He presses the button for the third floor, and we silently descend. Wait, why are there two buttons for each level?

"What's your name?" Mr Rivaille breaks the silence.

"Sabrina Fortner," I mutter, realising a flaw in Bertholdt's plan. Will some of the teachers actually think that I've been misplaced in the roll? I glance worriedly at the panel displaying which floor we're at. We're already on level three, but why haven't the doors-

Suddenly the elevator lets out a creaky lurch, and instead of the familiar pull tugging your body down, it stops abruptly.

"Holy shit!" I yelp as the elevator moves sideways, entering a transparent tunnel that links the two buildings of the university together. My vision starts to shake like jelly when I glimpse at the ground. Gordon Bennett, who'd knew they'd upgrade the stupid elevator system like that? Nearly scared the crap out of me...

"Oh, ah, sorry," I quickly apologise, and he lets out a half-hearted 'tsk' in reply. We stay in awkward silence as the elevator enters the second building. The doors open, and we walk out.

"Jesus, is that the lecturer you were talking about?" One of the guys sneers as we arrive at the third floor.

"Shh!"

"What a midget..."

"Where?"

"Look down, idiot!"

No wonder why I'm sticking along with Mr Rivaille. I'm a few centimetres shorter than him... I glance sideways, noting if he planned a retort or something of the like. Instead, he stoically heads to our destination, not giving a hint that he heard anything.

"Is that his girlfriend?"

"Nah."

"How can you tell?"

I decide to ignore their snide remarks, and enter the lecture hall.

"Damn, Robert," Mr Rivaille growls at the brown-haired man gazing at the LED screen. "Get your shitty ass out of here, I got a lecture here in twenty minutes."

"Hey Levi," Robert mumbles. "Look at the news."

"Thousands of people have been robbed of their time around three AM at Picnell today," The reporter stonily says as people were shrieking at the background. "Although many people suspect the Watch, they firmly deny any charges and the crime. Live, Jamey Jones, Six News."

Mr Rivaille sighs, snatches the remote and turns the screen off. "Go. Now. Fortner, sit at the front row."

Robert scurries away, but abruptly stops when he reaches the door frame. He shakes his head wildly as if refusing to accept his doubts, and exits. I unceremoniously dump my bag on the middle table in the front row, and sit with anticipation as more people pour into the lecture hall.

* * *

I take a small bite out of my avocado sandwich, and wrap it again, possibly for the fourth time. Christa gives me a troubled look with her jade eyes.

"What is it?" She quietly asks. I shrug, and instinctively yawn, curling the tip of my tongue. She giggles, and continues to press on, "What time did you sleep? What lecture did you have?"

"One," I mumble, and rub my eyes. "An-and it was history..."

Christa suddenly starts bursting into laughing fits, and after receiving my hard, long glare, she settles down, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes with a slender finger.

"What?" I groan, my exhaustion gone.

"So it is true!" She whispers triumphantly. "You and Mikasa had a class switch today to see Mr-"

"Shh!" I huff, and violently stuff my sandwich into my bag. "Gods, I can't keep any secrets here. Anyway, back to the offer, what did your boss say?"

"After he went on Google and searched up anything fishy about you, my boss said you passed the inspection," Christa cheerily confirms. "Yay! Ymir and I can't wait till you get to work on Saturday morning!"

"Wait, what?" I exclaim. "Saturday morning?! What time?"

"Huh? Seven AM."

Oh my god. Christa gives me an inquisitive look, but I stonily get up, brush the crumbs off my shirt, and set off to find Mikasa.

* * *

"How was uni?" Sasha teasingly asks as I collapse on the couch.

"Never again!" I scream into a cushion. "Dammit, why did I even agree to this?"

"To see someone hotter than Jason. I bought six packets of barbecue chips if that'll cheer you up," She says. "And plus, I got an anonymous message with someone's number on it, addressed to you."

That immediately vanquished the doom and gloom in my heart. "What? That's so creepy!"

She flicks the holographic screen right in front of me. I sit up, still clutching the cushion as I devour the message with hungry eyes.

_To Sabrina,_  
_Here's my number. 8506-264 _  
_Text me if you want. _

My eyes drift to the right hand corner of the screen. It was sent a few minutes ago. Oh gods. I race to the kitchen, totally ignoring my chips, and type a reply on the panel.

_Who the hell are you?_

I jab the 'Send' button, and after a few heartbeats, I get a reply.

_Just fucking text me._

My eyes widen with disbelief. Is this who I think it is? I snatch my passenger bag from the couch, slam the bathroom door shut and hastily add the number to my contacts.

"Okay, Sabrina, breathe," I dramatically sigh, and start typing another message. I mumble my message out loud, "Hello."

Ping! My ringtone sings.

_It's your 'history lecturer' here, you're not in my class, brat. We need to talk. Preferably at lunch break, tomorrow, in my office. _

What the fuck did I just read.

* * *

A/N: Yay! Chapter Three! If you've read all the chapters, have another cookie! Thank you **The Creator of Worlds** for favouriting my story! I really appreciate it. Editing will commence around two days after the 27/10, but if you're an editor, and you have time to edit, I'd appreciate that too~

Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

_Creeaakkakak._

I nearly fall out of my seat, and whip back to see which door made that noise.

"I'm armed, come at me, bitch!" I snap, and grab the closest pen I can find. Silence. I let out a huff, and resume scrolling through the university forums about Mr Rivaille on my phone.

_8:29 PM 1/04/172 Bossard, Auruo_

_Petra Ral, if you laugh, you lose._

_8:32 PM 1/04/172 Gin, Erd_

_Auruo, you'd better delete it. Now._

Below Auruo's comment was a video link. I tap on it with anticipation, and the link redirects me to his page on SocialMelon. I press play, and sit closer on the edge of my chair.

"Once upon a time, there was a man called Levi," A man's voice, presumably Auruo's, narrates, and ends the sentence with a snicker.

"He had many fan girls," He drones on. "And one of them was exceptionally bad at making Levi's coffee."

A picture of a ginger haired woman holding a Thermos pops up, her amber eyes were puffy and bloodshot.

"And because we all know Petra's forgetful, let's switch to something more interesting."

Suddenly, Levi's face among with Petra's and a few others I didn't know, show up.

"I want to sleep with one of my students tonight, so don't touch him," Levi says with an apathetic voice.

"Levi!" Petra wails. "You can't sleep with him, he's only a child!"

"So what's the matter?" He retorts.

"But you'll be a criminal!"

"I don't care!" Icona Pop sings as Levi opens his mouth to speak.

"And this is why, Petra, you'll always be a virgin," Auruo's voice speaks again as the scene fades. The classic TV static appears, buzzes, and disappears. A man with Levi's face photoshopped on him starts singing whilst cleaning a table, "This is why I'm hot, this is why I'm hot, this is why, this is why, this is why I'm hot."

A bystander throws him a can of air freshener, the man catches it like a boss, and starts spraying it in the room, muttering, "Waka waka waka."

"What the hell?" Connie whispers behind me, and I immediately sit down properly. "What are you watching?"

"Stuff, aren't you supposed to be asleep?" I ask, and look back.

He rubs his eyes slowly, groans, and walks out of my room. "Says the person who goes to uni."

I sigh, and decide to text Mr Rivaille.

_Hey, are you awake? And may I call you Levi?_

**Ping!**

_That's a completely redundant question. At least you used proper English, most brats use 'could' instead of 'may'. _

I blink a few times. Finally, someone noticed.

_Well, someone posted-_

I pause, wondering whether I should tell him or not.

_Well, someone posted a video of you._

_On SocialMelon?_

_Yep._

_Interesting. _

I fantasize the moment where Levi throws a shitstorm at Auruo, but my elation quickly ends as I remember my...detention. I leave my phone on the desk, and decide to take a rest.

* * *

"Lunch break?" Marco asks. "Just the two of you?"

"Sounds kinky," He cheerfully grins, as we walk to his classroom.

"Sh-shut up," I mutter, and blush instantly. Mental note, girl, you need to stop blushing. Marco shrugs and enters his classroom. I let out an exasperated huff and stride further down the hallway. A bunch of girls shoot a few suspicious glares, and start muttering excitedly.

"Is it the girl from the article?"

"Shh, yes!"

"Why is she the 'infamous' bachelorette? There's se-"

Wow. Bacherlorette. What a big word for her.

"I got ninety-nine problems but the bitch ain't one," I scowl loudly, and enter my bustling, chatty classroom. I dump my bag on the back row, next to the window. I tap the desk with my index finger three times, and it begins to hum with life as a keyboard along with a screen flickers like a white flame underneath the surface. I start writing the first few lines of a waffy fanfiction, I mean, no-one's going to look at me anyway, they're too busy talking with each other. After I finish my fifth sentence, I peer at the clock. 10:37 AM. So much for Bridgeport University's teachers being punctual and strict.

The door slams open, and I eye the figure warily. The noise levels drop from seventy decibels to twenty in a fraction of a second.

No way. I groan inwardly. I can't believe my rotten luck. What'd I do to Karma?

He stiffly walks to his desk, and I look down. I'm invisible, I swear, I'm invi-

His deliciously low voice barks, "Fortner!"

I cringe, and decide to stay silent.

"Nice seeing you again," He mutters, and the class starts chattering and throws strange looks at me. Honestly, if I could die, now is the right moment.

Why does my substitute teacher have to be him? Out of all the teachers...

"Unfortunately, I'm your substitute teacher, as you've noticed already. However, I have no idea what to fucking do, even with these notes, so is there anyone responsible enough to be the teacher?"

His silence is greeted by a stony silence. I bet everyone's asking for a free period.

"Right," He sighs. "A shitty free period for all of you."

Someone give this man a cookie.

* * *

Lunch break. Awkward silence at the sixth floor. I fidget on my seat uncomfortably.

"Uh...um..." I mumble, and shift around.

"Levi," He sighs, holds the rim of his cup with his fingertips and takes a sip of tea.

"Well, what do you want to talk about?" I ask.

"Have you lived in Bridgeport for your entire life?" He absent-mindedly probes.

"Yes."

Great, now a teacher wants to stalk me.

"Hmm, have the Watchmen sent you anything strange?"

"Huh? Uh, no. Why?"

His icy eyes seem to flash with relief, and he dismisses me with a wave of a hand, ignoring my question. I stand, push the chair in, and exit from his office gladly.

* * *

I twist a lock of hair with my index finger. Why would he ask if the Watchmen sent me anything? I pull the left sleeve of my turtleneck up, and check my arm.

**00 : 12 : 09 : 17 : 49**

I scowl, feeling like a liability. The sooner I go to work, the less I'll have to act like a beggar and debts I owe. The bus shudders to a halt, the doors hiss open, and I walk out, heading to my apartment. I ponder about tonight's dinner as the elevator slowly ascends to the eighth floor. Bacon pasta topped with tomato sauce with an abundant amount of side dishes? My stomach grumbles with impatience. A sigh escapes from my lips as I exit the elevator, take the keys from my pocket, and enter.

I shut the door, and lock it.

I check for any signs of living, but no-one's back home yet. I flop on the couch, barely able to reach the neon blue sphere, and tap it, scanning the list of red letters coursing past the sphere.

17 DEATHS IN CARAWAY TODAY. VICTIMS WERE ROBBED OF THEIR -

"Not this shit again," I groan, and throw the sphere away in disdain. Haven't the Watchmen found the murderers yet? Honestly, it seems like they don't even care, and Caraway...

Isn't that four hours away from Bridgeport by train?

My insides seem to freeze, but I shake my head. Bridgeport? It's a middle class timezone, far from the likes of Dayton. I mean, sure, New Greenwich folks want to be immortal, and bribe the Watchmen for some extra time, but they usually run out of time because of gambling and such. I don't see why they would ask the Watchmen to actually murder people for their 'immortality', right?

I decide to make shaker pancakes, to distract myself, and see a pile of dirty dishes from today's breakfast. Gods. I roll my sleeves up, and prepare myself.

Infidel dirt, I grimly think as I rub the dishes with a blue sponge. I swear, why didn't Sasha buy a dishwasher instead? It'd save me from the wrath of dry, cracked hands. I might not care about my beauty as much as other girls, but I do have some sense. After I finish drying the forks with the cloth, I place the utensils and dishes where they belong.

What was I going to do again...?

"Let's not think today," I mumble, and stretch. "Text some people, do some homework, eat, and sleep."

I dry my hands, reach for my phone, and start texting a page long discursive essay to Mikasa about why she should ask Eren out.

* * *

A/N: Yay! Chapter Four done! Thank you **xMiss Shizaya Michaelisx **for favouriting! Short Author Note today, sorry! I got some English homework to finish now. :3 Enjoy!


	5. Chapter 5

12:47 AM. Still no sign of Sasha and Connie. I scroll through my contacts, and decide to call Reiner.

"Hey, buddy," I say. "My flatmates are probably banging each other so they're too busy to manage me, may I come over to your place? Is Bertholdt fine with that?"

"Sure," Reiner snorts amusedly, while I hear a cry of indignation faintly in the background. "Don't worry about him, he's still jittery about the hacking thing."

"Okay! Thank you," I cheer, and end the call. Whew, at least I don't have to be alone. I stride to my bathroom, gather some toiletries, go to my bedroom, and start packing.

Pyjamas? Check.

Toiletries? Uh-huh.

More clothes?

I pull my drawers open dramatically with a _whoosh_, and decide to bring a burgundy turtleneck, along with denim jeans. I stuff everything hastily in my duffel bag, slip the keys in my pocket, grab my bag, and reach to the door.

Your phone! The voice inside my head screams with remembrance. and write a note in case they come back.

Right. I trudge back to my bedroom, scribble a few lines on the lime green Posty note, stick it on the refrigerator, and take my phone. I switch the lights off, and exit, guessing how much the bus fee will be this time.

* * *

"Hello!" Reiner heartily greets me, and I playfully punch him on the arm, stepping inside. "You're sleeping in the toilet! Just kidding, of course."

I groan mockingly, and ask, "Where's Bertl?"

He shrugs, "In his room."

I enter and gracefully fall on the couch. Hopefully it doesn't smell like alcohol and vomit. "I need to wake up at eight twenty, and yes, I'm back in uni, oh, shut up!"

Reiner starts bawling, leaning against the wall for support. "You got fired! Oh my god, out of everyone!"

I grumble a few obscenities and set my alarm on my phone as Bertholdt bursts into the room, hoarsely yelling, "Reiner! Are you crying?"

**Ping!**

Great, a text. I press the home button and tap the speech bubble icon. A text from Marco? When did I even give him my number?

_Are you back in uni?!_

_Yes, don't laugh at me. _

_Do you know about the welcoming ball next week? I was wondering if you could come along with me since Jean doesn't want to go._

What. I wildly re-read his text again.

_Gah, fine. _

_6 PM, at your apartment, right?_

_Sure._

I access Firemeow, and go on the uni's website. I look through the newsletter, and find that dreaded ball.

**WELCOME BALL 2172**

I grudgingly make a mental list of the ball's site, time, and what to wear.

It's next Saturday. Six thirty to nine post meridiem. Formal attire. Hmm, what's in my drawers again?

Parties are easy. Just show up, wearing something that vaguely fits the theme, and have a great time.

Balls are strictly out of my comfort zone for a good reason. Usually there are a lot of strangers, so I just stick with one of my friends and pretend I'm mute to avoid attention. And the formality. It's suffocating.

"Want some Snake Venom?" Reiner's voice interrupts my thoughts. "What about you, Bertholdt?"

"Really, the world's strongest beer?" I ask.

"No thanks," Bertl says, and walks back to his room.

"Is he still pissed off that I laughed about his surname?" I continue. Reiner shrugs, pours a bit of the amber liquid into a curved glass and answers, "Well, you know he has low self-esteem."

I get off the couch, and take the glass. "Are you going to drink the whole bottle?"

But that was a redundant question, because we all know the party animal loves his alcohol. Reiner raises the bottle to his lips and drinks the rest, ignoring the health warning.

"You're going to have a tough time when you take a shit and find blood in the toilet," I warn. "Rectal cancer is_ not_ amusing."

"Psh."

I take a small sip, and wince at the bitter sting. I decide to finish my drink to drown my thoughts about the ball.

"I was thinking of having a party next week," Reiner mumbles. "How about Day of the Dead?"

"Gods, you're drunk, but I can't say much," I laugh crazily. "Day of the Dead? Isn't that like, in November or some shit?"

"Remember the costume you wore for last years Day of the Dead?" He sighs wistfully. "Sexy as. Sabrina, be my girlfriend! I can make your bed rock!"

"Dream on, big boy," I grin and head to the bathroom with my duffel bag. "I need to go to sleep. Go watch some midget porn or something."

What am I even saying? Midget porn? I shake my head, turn the hazy lights on and take out my toothbrush and toothpaste. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and stare at my dishevelled hair. I snarl and drag my fingers though my hair, trying to flatten it. I'm so photogenic.

Never again, I groan inwardly. I swear, I will never get drunk again.

What an empty promise.

I squeeze a few centimetres of multicoloured toothpaste on my toothbrush and start brushing my teeth. The granite tiles of the bathroom start to emanate with a toasty warmth as the heating system turns on. I lick a few minty bubbles off my lips and rinse my mouth with water. After that, I dry my possessions and walk back to the couch.

Gods.

Reiner's sleeping.

* * *

"Hey."

I tap my desk to turn it off, and look up. An Asian guy with thick spectacles behind me stares intensely at me.

"Hi," I say, grab my bag and get up. "If you want something, talk to me later."

"Don't you remember me?" He whines. "I'm sorry if I didn't introduce myself yesterday, but that sub teacher scared the shit outta me."

I look back, and a thought strikes me. "Nelson? The nerd back in high school?"

"Hooray."

"You've gotten more obese," I point out, and rush out of the classroom. I wonder where the reception is? Apparently that's where the hard copy of the newsletters are. I wind through the crowd of people, and take the stairs to the ground floor. Typical Nelson, taking Creative Writing, I thought. Back in the old days, Nelson, I and a few other people wrote a collaboration where we were in a camp, alone, with no supervisors. Basically, a watered down version of the Hunger Games. It was fun, but we gave up later on. I reach the entrance of the building, and find a stack of papers in a paper holder on a table.

I grab one, head to the cafeteria for some curry rice and one of Ymir's yarns.

* * *

Fun.

I glance at the digital clock. 5:18 PM. Forty two minutes until Marco picks me up. I brush my hair again.

Hope I look fine, I fret inwardly.

Of course you will, the voice inside my mind scolds. You're in a magazine, for Christ's sa-

Don't say that, I snap. The voice snorts with disbelief.

Just because your foster parents were Christian doesn't mean you are.

It's called respect, jackass.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

I undress, slip on a simple, periwinkle dress and don a cream coloured jacket with short sleeves. Strangely, the jacket seems ridiculously familiar.

Levi, the voice sings mockingly. You should've rejected Marco and ask Levi.

Oh, shut up, you.

I sullenly check my time.

**00 : 00 : 28 : 15 : 47 : 28**

Well, at least the pay for my new job is good. I seize the keys and my smartphone, lock the door, and head down to the street. I see a silver sedan next to a Pay 'n' Display machine, and notice Marco in the car.

"You're early," I comment, open the door, sit on the passenger seat and fasten the safety belt securely.

"I heard the traffic was going to be horrible today," He laughs nervously. "You look nice."

"You too," I sniff, staring out of the window as Marco drives to the campus. "Why isn't Jean coming?"

"Oh, he's busy."

"Sounds kinky."

We both laugh in unison.

* * *

"Hey Sabrina!" Christa greets me as we enter. Ymir trails along with Christa, throwing me glares vehemently. Looks like she hasn't forgiven me yet. I excuse myself, and try to unearth the secret place of the table with free food. I find it, warily take a corn chip, end its life with a satisfying _crunch_, grab a polystyrene cup full of OJ and turn around, nearly bumping into someone.

"Sorry," I lamely apologize, and look up. "Oh, ah..."

Great vocal skills, Sabrina.

"Surprised to find me here?" Levi raises an eyebrow.

"Th-thought you were misanthropic or something," I mutter, deliberately avoiding his gaze.

"Huh," He replies. "You'd might want to follow me, that ass of a Chancellor will throw a shitstorm if he finds me talking to you."

As we walk, I notice that some of the teachers give me curious glances as we pass by. The glances were the ones that said blatantly, 'I know who you are. Ish.'

And I catch a name.

"Cassandra."

A ghostly chill runs through my skin, as if someone walked on my grave. The tension seems to multiply by tenfold as Levi turns around.

He turns back. The tension ebbs away along with the sighs.

"Who's Cassandra?" I ask as we walk upstairs and reach to the balcony.

"Someone," He helpfully answers. "How are you?"

"Fine, but I don't get why you're so interested about me," I mutter.

"True, I could say the same about you," Levi calmly replies. "What are you going to do after university?"

I shrug. "Get a job. Live my life. Do what I've always wanted to do. I mean, since we stop ageing once the countdown shows up, we're practically immortal."

"What about finding the truth about your parents?" He quietly questions.

"Someone did their homework. What about them?" I snap, and look at the view. "They're dead."

"Check the fire exit stairs now. Maybe it'll persuade you that you need to know more."

"Piss off."

I expected an answer, but only silence greeted me.

I turn back. He's gone. Rushing to finish my drink, I dump the cup into a plastic bag on a table, and take Levi's advice. I open the door cautiously, and slowly close it. Nothing. Honestly, just wh-

"How, let's see, I should pour a little acid so they won't recognise you, hmm?" A scratchy voice faintly ricochets off the stone walls. "Drip drip..."

I hear a faint sizzle. Shit. I peer down, my hands barely gripping the rail. I see a small figure crouching over a body, blocking the face, just a floor below me.

"Too much time," The figure giggles. "Did Will and his wench give you that?"

A muffled yell, loud enough for me to hear, but not enough to penetrate through the door.

"No worries, you have five seconds left anyway. Bye bye!"

The figure raises a knife, slices through the victim's torso, throws the knife, and starts pulling the entrails out effortlessly. The blood seeps from the wound, surrounding the body like a dark aura, and flows down the stairs. My instincts scream at me, telling me to go back to the ball, as if nothing happened.

I could've done that.

I grimly drift down the stairs, unnerved by the familiarity of the scene. I couldn't make a noise. The figure's too absorbed in its business. I deftly handle the knife, and did what I thought I never had to do again.

I plunge the knife at the base of its neck, screaming frenziedly. The figure lets out a short gasp, and relaxes. I drop the knife, and hurry to the body.

It's futile, the voice mutters. Five seconds are already gone. Might as well run.

I look at his face. The victims eyes were gouged out, the eyelids were left in tatters, who knows what happened to the eyes. The acid's still bubbling, eating the flesh away. A glass bottle is next to his face. His intestines are heaped in a pile next to his wound. I look down at the stairs. Crushed shards of glass and a twisted metal frame.

I hear a shout from upstairs. The door slams open.

I run.

* * *

I'm back in my apartment, still recovering from the shock. What did Levi mean? How did he know that thing was down there? Why didn't Levi help Nelson?

The questions whirl around in my mind, blocking any means of escape.

Maybe Levi couldn't interfere.

The Watchmen.

I hear a knock.

Sasha and Connie?

My mind drenched with relief, I hurry to the door, and look through the spyhole. My heart skips a beat.

"Open the door," A rough, muffled voice yells.

"Don't be stupid!" The man's partner snarls. "Now she knows it's not her flatmates!"

"Look who's stupid!"

I stumble back, and reach for my phone desperately. Who to call?

Oh shit.

You need to know more.

Levi. I hate to admit it, but you're right.

_What'd you do if your flatmates are missing, and then there were two strange men outside your flat?_ I text him.

He immediately responds.

_Grab a knife, disarm them if they have any weapons, and I'll pick you up._

_You know where I live?_

_Haven't I done my homework?_

I scramble for the dining utensils drawer, and snatch a carving knife. Just disarming, I reassure my nerves. No killing. I exhale quietly, and creep up to the door. It's strange how I easily take his advice. It's like as if I've known Levi for years.

"Open the door!" The voice repeats angrily, and forcefully knock on the door again. "It's the Watchmen! Open-the-fucking-door!"

I open the door quietly, pressing my left hand which held the knife against the wall. I scan both of the men. No weapons.

"What do you want?" I mutter. One of them whips out a tranquilizer gun with a trembling grip. Oh, he's afraid of me? Without a thought, I rush forward and direct his aim at his partner. Dim wittedly, he shoots his partner, and gapes at him as he sinks to the floor. I flick my left wrist, and my knife pierces his thigh.

"I truly believe you are the Watchmen," I grin, and kick him in the face, knocking him out and savouring his pain. I pull the knife out, and head outside, knowing that the peace I had in the past twenty years was gone.

* * *

A/N: Hurray! I finished. ^_^TT I made it extra long just to make it up for my break. Hope you enjoy it!


	6. Chapter 6

I glance at my call history, and find at least three calls from nearly everyone. I turn on the air conditioning.

"The glass is fogging up."

Levi stays silent, and we slip back into the stony silence we had a moment ago.

"Can we talk about my missing flat-"

"_This is why I'm hot, this-_"

Oh fuck. I reject the incoming call, ending my ringtone. Where's the settings, where's the settings...

"Out of all the fucking ringtones you could choose, it had to be that one, Fortner," Levi flatly points out, still looking at the road. I let out an incoherent whine, and change my ringtone to 'Clarity' by Zedd featuring Foxes. Yes, I know it's really old, but it's better than the techno stuff that people smoke crack to.

"Do you know what the Watchmen and the Timekeepers' role is?" He asks, and accelerates. I frown slightly, and start to ponder about it.

"Uh, kicking ass," I suggest. His expression doesn't change, but I can feel him pour all of his irritation into the brake. "Oh, and murdering people mercilessly."

"Partially correct," Levi says, tapping a finger on the steering wheel. "You see, do you remember the news about Will Salas and Sylvia Weis three years ago? They're trying to end the inequality, right? Well, the Timekeepers manage rebellious people such as those two, the Watchmen take care of the people with too much time in their hands and send it to those New Greenwich pigs, who bump up the price of living in poorer districts. For example, if someone manages to save up to a hundred years in Caraway, the Watchmen steal it, and make sure it never happens again."

"That's stupid," I exclaim. "Seriously, just because some people are lucky enough to get way more than the average time in their district doesn't mean they have to die!"

"That's why they give it to someone else. But they die in the end anyway."

The red traffic light flickers and disappears. So does the light from the street lamps.

"Are they looking for me? They wouldn't go to such lengths, right? Turning off the main power?"

"Sons of bitches," He growls, as the cars confusedly swerve to a corner, unsure of what to do. "Did you keep your knife?"

"Well, yes, but the grip's too uncomfortable," I say.

"Look at the glove compartment, there should be something you'll fancy," Levi offers, glaring at the growing crowd. I sceptically open it, and find several knives strapped inside.

"No way," I gasp. "Is that a spike knuckled trench knife? Wait, aren't butterfly knives banned? This is like Christmas, man!"

"The fucking hell I know," He groans. "Just take all of them, we'll have to go to my penthouse by foot instead."

"You're leaving your Bentley behind? Isn't that a crime for guys?"

He gets out and slams the door shut. I guess this car isn't his. Oh well. I greedily stuff everything in my pockets and scramble out of the car. Hoarse shouts and yells enter the atmosphere as the familiar wail of sirens approach. Levi grabs my wrist, drags me through the commotion, and pushes everyone aside as the cobalt and crimson lights dance on the streets.

* * *

The elevator reaches the top floor with a merry ding. I assess the situation I'm in. I'm with an acquaintance, the Watchmen are after me, one of my long distance friends are dead, and I still don't know why I'm with Levi, even though he seems to have his head around all of this shit. Levi unlocks the door, and invites me to enter first.

I'm flabbergasted at the sight.

"This can't be _yours_," I tell him.

"Eight thousand and thirty-four square feet of luxury, five bedrooms, four bathrooms, and three reception rooms. This penthouse apartment are on top of two buildings, connected by a glass footbridge. It cost me a hefty thousand and five hundred years, excluding the furniture."

"How long am I going to stay here?" I ask as I take off my shoes, place them on the rack and walk further inside.

"Until they stop throwing a shitstorm," He answers. "You might want to wear socks, winter's a bitch to the floors."

I refuse, and walk to the living room. Gods, my apartment feels ridiculously diminutive compared to Levi's. Everything's so avant-garde and spacious. I tread towards the marine aquarium fixed into the wall.

"Is that a Ocellaris clownfish?"

"The whole thing's virtual. I'll be back."

"Oh."

I immediately lose interest, head to the kitchen and flick the light switch on. Several black cupboards along with a white refrigerator huddle tightly against the left side of the room, leaving the sink, a few counters, a microwave on the other side. A charcoal table with a couple of white bar stools under it stand at the other end of the room. Sasha would've loved this place.

Sasha.

Connie.

I clench my teeth, forcing the aching sensation in my throat to ebb away. I couldn't possibly cry here. Out of all the places. Where's Levi anyway? I have to ask him.

I turn off the kitchen lights, and pull the sliding door open. I could get lost in here, to be honest, my memory's not that great. I take off my jacket, and place a dagger next to the sliding door. I walk outside, slightly shivering as a zephyr tickles my face. A glass footbridge, hmm? Instinctively, I look down, and regret it. I double over, groan a little, and tread slowly across the bridge, sensing déjà vu. After I finish crossing, I stick my hand into a pocket, and take out a butterfly knife. I enter the other half of the penthouse and follow the dim, soft amber light.

I open the door.

What a big, big, big as mistake.

"Get out!" An angry Levi wearing only grey sweatpants shouts.

"Okay, okay!" I wail in embarrassment and shut the door. After a few hasty heartbeats, he tells me to come in reluctantly.

"What do you want?" He grumbles, and flops on his bed.

"I wanted, to, um, talk to you. About my missing roomates, and the guy who got murdered."

"Your roomates? Interrogation, probably. As for the latter, I'd thought you'd get all mopey and shit when that clone killed your friend."

"What?! That was Nelson?! Why didn't you interfere?"

"If I interfered in their plans the first place, I'd be six feet under the ground, pushing up a few shitty dandelions."

I glare at him, trying to vent all my fury through my eyes. Levi doesn't lower his stoic gaze.

"Just because you can't remember me doesn't mean you have to act like a bitch."

"Look, just because you've stalked me, and my real parents, doesn't mean I have to put up with this bullshit!" I yell, and dare him silently to reply. "Fuck, I'm going out."

Once I turn around, he firmly yanks my wrist towards him, and whispers into my ear. "They're going to find you and kill you. If you really want to rush to your death, go."

I snarl, and attempt to punch his face with my free arm. Hot or not, I'm definitely not going to stick around Levi anymore. He deftly blocks the punch, and locks his grip around my other wrist. I decide to kick him between the legs, but as soon as the thought crosses my mind, he flips me over and sits on my back. I struggle, but to no avail.

"Let's try negotiation instead of fighting, Fortner. Don't you hate to lose?"

* * *

My alarm chimes softly, breaking my mind away from the soft, deliciously warm darkness. I groan, switch my phone off, and bury my face into the duvet.

Screw my life.

I shift around the bed, and discover that Levi's gone. Mumbling, I groggily get up, and tend to my personal hygiene, yesterday's conversation about my fate with Levi is still rewinding through my head.

So many questions, answered with unclear replies.

Honestly, he needs to spill the beans about his relationship with my family. I swipe a few strands of hair away from my face, and rub my sore eyelids. I walk out of the bathroom, and try to retrace my steps to the kitchen. A thick, buttery smell that reminded me of shaker pancakes wafts through the air. I glimpse inside the kitchen, and see Levi 'professionally' try to flip a pancake.

"Fuck, this isn't like television at all," He snarls, and tips the pan upside down above a china plate. Television? Oh, the thing from half a century ago... I cringe.

"Maple syrup," He mutters the instructions from the book aloud. "And unsalted butter, because she hates salty things..."

"Do you need help?" I interrupt, and he freezes. Levi blinks once, and nods at the refrigerator. I laugh softly, and get the slab of unsalted butter wrapped in foil. Strangely, a bottle of maple syrup is in one of the drawers.

"Uh, y'know, aren't you supposed to put maple syrup somewhere else?" I ask as I take the items out and shut the fridge door.

"Oh, did I put it there? Oh well. Here's your shitty pancakes," Levi offers me the plate along with a knife, and I gratefully accept.

"How did you know I like pancakes?"

"It's an educated guess."

"Aren't you hungry?"

He shrugs, and grabs a coffee pot. "I'll be fine."

I mercilessly squeeze the bottle on the pancakes as I place my food on the table. I click the cap shut, and cut off a corner of the butter, smearing it on the golden brown pancakes.

"You shouldn't have too much coffee, especially on an empty stomach," I lecture. An exaggerated sigh escapes from Levi's lips. "I'm being honest."

"Just eat your bloody pancakes, and remember to clean the crap properly," Levi says as he turns the kettle on. "I've got work to do, so I'll be back here at six PM. Don't leave this place. Just stay here. Don't call anyone either."

* * *

A/N: Holy crap. I finally finished. I'm seriously sorry that I took this long! Screw exams. _ Thank you **direwolff** for following!


	7. Chapter 7

I could barely restrain myself from the incoming texts that I was receiving. Microwave pings still ring inside my head after the ordeal a few hours ago. Rolling off the couch lethargically, I wonder what I could do to remedy my loneliness and inability to communicate. Maybe he has one of those strange collars from those sci-fi novels that would change your appearance. I mean, it's possible. His friend's Bentley had banned weaponry in the glove compartment. I cautiously walk over to one of his several bedrooms, opening the drawers for anything similar looking. As my search proved itself to be fruitless and an entire waste of time, I sigh, and head to the hallway. I notice a silver capsule and a note under it on top of a cabinet. I pull the note out, holding the silver capsule in place with my other hand.

_You could do with some time. Stay put, and don't do anything stupid to your appearance._

I raise an eyebrow. Was that last sentence necessary? I flick the cap of the capsule open, and shake the gelatinous green globe on my palm. Out of all the methods of transferring time between each other, Levi had to choose the most painful one. I shiver, and swallow the globe reluctantly. Pinpricks crawl on my throat, and course through my left arm. The pain gradually increases, the sensations similar to the one where the sharpened blade of a potato peeler cuts into your skin. The pain slowly ebbs, after what felt like ten minutes, and I glance at my left arm.

**20 : 09 : 11 : 42 : 06 : 37**

Wow, this guy.

* * *

Eleven twenty-three PM. Bloody hell, he's not even back. Maybe he ran into a bunch of fangirls. No, I'm not jealous. I throw my phone on the couch with distaste as I finish the recent chapter of one of the books in my eLibrary. I can't believe it. My favourite character died, because the stupid deuteragonist beheaded him for showing the protagonist the truth. I stare at the ceiling with dismay, until someone knocks on the door, breaking the monotony of my day.

I silently open the door, glaring at Levi.

"I nearly died of fun deprivation," I complain.

"Whatever," He shrugs, and throws a plastic bag on the couch. "Here's some shit to entertain yourself."

I shoot him a sceptical look, and sift through the contents. I find black hair dye, scissors, shampoo for coloured hair and a small rectangular box. "What's in this?"

"Contacts."

"What colour?"

"Green."

"Why green? I don't want to be Jason's sister, that's disgusting."

Levi's cobalt eyes bore into me, and I sigh in defeat. "Fine, fine, I'll listen to Shortie then."

He stiffens and lets out a soft growl. I storm to the bathroom with the plastic bag in personal disgust, knowing that I'm being a hypocrite. But the moment was irresistible, I couldn't bear _not_ to call him 'Shortie'. Guess I'll cut my hair first, wash it, then use hair dye, so later there's more hair dye to use. I ferret the scissors out, and stare at my long locks. Well, hair is grabbing material, so I should cut it short, even though I look horrendous in short hair. Safety comes first, I scold inwardly, and snip off most of my hair situated at the back of my head. I take the contents of the plastic bag out, and scoop the hair out of the sink, into the plastic bag. Now, should I leave two frontal locks? For the sake of vanity, fine, but only up to my collarbone.

After I finish cutting my hair, I take my tank top off, slam the door shut firmly and twist the knob for cold water to turn on the showerhead. I douse my hair thoroughly, and run my fingers through my hair to dislodge any shards on my scalp that could potentially stab my eye, making my life a living hell.

I twist the knob anticlockwise, and squeeze my hair to release the majority of moisture. I grab the box of hair dye and rotate it, reading the recommendation.

**For hair that is thick, shoulder length or longer, we recommend you to use 2 packs of QAPRO Palette. **

Thank the gods I cut my hair first. I take out the instruction leaflet, flip through it briefly, and slip the latex gloves on. A few minutes later of unscrewing, mixing, squeezing, shaking, and applying, I shout, "Levi, could you set a timer for twenty minutes?"

"Fine," I barely hear, and sigh, gazing into the mirror.

* * *

"Ta da!" I cheer, and stride out of the steamy bathroom, slipping my tank top on again. I wrap a towel against my head to absorb any puddles since I couldn't find a hair dryer, and try not to rub my eyes. My lower eyelid twitches with irritation, and a tear runs down my cheek. I mutter a few colourful words, wipe the tear away, and hope that it won't happen again. My vision begins to blurry, and I blink repetitively.

"What's wrong?" Levi dully questions, and pauses, scrutinizing my face vehemently.

"I'm allergic to green contacts," I sarcastically respond, look down to avoid his intense gaze and ask, "Do I look fine? Did you bring anything to eat? I'm starving, after my failed attempt of autumn salad."

"Look up," He commands. I do, and after a few hesitant, awkward moments, he mutters, "You look fine."

"Look here," I playfully tease, and punch Levi on the arm lightly as he diverts his gaze to the kitchen. He instinctively clamps his fist on my arm, but lets go. "Fish and chips. In the damn kitchen."

"Gross," I pull a face and head to the kitchen. "Fish."

I flick the light switch. It emits a faint crackle, and the lights turn off. Oh crap. I flick the switch again.

_Clack._

_Clack._

_Clack clack cla-_

Shit. I broke it. I offer a quick prayer to repent for my newly committed sin, and say, "Levi, the switch broke."

He offers no reply, instead, he's completely fixated on the screen of his phone.

"Fuck!" Levi snaps, and throws his phone across the room. Must've been a text from one of his ex-girlfriends. I sigh, and try to think straight.

"Am I charged with assault? Seriously, they need to charge me for killing a clone?" I ask.

"No," He replies, walks over, and flicks the light switch for me. The lights flicker back on unsteadily, but regain stability after a couple of seconds. "You should give the wire thirty seconds to fix itself next time."

I mumble my thanks, and gaze at the gleaming plastic bag on the counter. As I segregate the chips to another section of the wrapping paper from the influence of the fish, I hear Levi complaining about microwave pings, dust, and lack of proper cleaning utensils like a teenage girl on her period. OCD much, I think inwardly, and pull a chip out, checking if any crumbs from the battered fish is on the chip. I grin sadistically as it passes my test, and pop the chip into my mouth, savouring the warm, slightly soggy and grainy texture of the potato mash.

Stare, grin, eat, and repeat.

I lick my fingers to wipe off the accumulated salt and oil after I obliterate the last chip. How am I going to deal with the fish? Yuck, fish. But I'd better eat it. I open the cupboard, grab a bone china plate along with a fork and knife from a drawer, and place the fish on the plate. I gaze at it, cut it into halves, and devour a half immediately, wincing at the strange flavours of the white fleshy meat. I painfully swallow, pause, and deliver the same fate to the other half. Groaning, I carry the plate, knife and fork to the sink, and dump the plastic bag along with the contents to the rubbish bin. I roll up my 'sleeves' as I arrive to the sink, and nearly facepalm at my stupidity when I realise I'm wearing a tank top. I really need to repay my sleep debt...

* * *

"Who's Cassandra?" I bug Levi, unwrap my towel and drape it on my head.

"No-one."

I poke his ivory face, and throw a pillow at him. "Why won't you tell me? I woke up early, like, just to vacuum your whole penthouse just so you would tell me! Oh, could you buy me a phone charger? My phone ran out of battery."

"Don't poke me."

I blink, and poke his cheek again. Levi groans, and buries his head into the pillow. "Fuck, what did I tell you?"

"Gods, you're such a baby," I grumble, and stare at the skyscrapers outside. "If you're going to be such a funk in the weekend, I'm going shopping, okay?"

"Mmm," He hums, and curls into a fetal position. I shoot him a suspicious look. I forsake the idea buzzing in my head, and head to the door. Is that...?

I pick up the empty bottle on the table and glance at the label. Highland Park? Well, that's something. I shake my head slowly, and remind myself not to bump into anyone I know, especially Jason, that womaniser. I place the bottle back on the table, and head out.

* * *

A/N: Finally! Sorry for the wait, guys. I've been stuck quite a few times whilst writing this chapter. D: And I lost some of my motivation. Oh well. I'd really like a review or two, just to improve my writing, and so other people will enjoy this story too. I mean, I know I sound demanding, but I don't know whether there's anything you guys want me to improve on or edit. Considering about editing, it'll start next week. Sorry for any grammar mistakes! Enjoy!


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